


remember these feelings, these moments. remember this space, and our commitment.

by theauthorish



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Spirited Away - Freeform, Studio Ghibli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: Seonghwa and Hongjoong had a system for running the bathhouse.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	remember these feelings, these moments. remember this space, and our commitment.

**Author's Note:**

> for the ateezxghibli collab on twitter!!! there's also matching art from @AuroraJoong_Art right here: https://twitter.com/AuroraJoong_Art/status/1299001118005977088?s=20
> 
> Title is from the lyrics of with u!

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had a system for running the bathhouse. 

Ever since they took over from Zeniba (who had taken over it from her sister), two years ago, they’d decided to make a number of changes and updates, and with how messy things could get thanks to the nature of their services and clientele, they needed to keep careful track of progress and results. If they didn’t, things didn’t turn out well; ask any employee about the new year’s fiasco, and you’ll get a shudder and a refusal to speak. It got that bad.

Ever since then, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had started taking careful written logs of the major events of the day. There was too much going on for any of them to afford being distracted all day, and the bathhouse was busy enough even when it was closed that doing the logs constantly  _ would _ be distracting, no ifs or buts about it, so they’d decided from the get-go to trade off.

Seonghwa took it during the day, since he was moving around to oversee cleaning and maintenance anyway. Doing so also meant Hongjoong could stay up in his office and focus on his business— boring things Seonghwa had no patience for, like finances and deals and supply routes.

Speaking of that, Hongjoong’s office was Seonghwa’s first stop every morning. It was purely practical, of course; Hongjoong’s office was on the very top floor, and Seonghwa found it infinitely easier to work his way from the top of the bathhouse to the bottom. 

He knocked gently on the front door. On the third rap of his knuckles against the wood, the doors popped open, but Hongjoong was nowhere in sight. Seonghwa could hear him mumbling from deeper inside, though. Seonghwa entered and found Hongjoong bent over his desk, chewing on the tip of a pen and frowning at some papers. They looked like architectural plans. “Morning, Joongie,” Seonghwa chirped.

“Mornin’,” came the mumbled response.

Seonghwa stepped closer to see what he was doing. “What are these for?” He couldn’t recall any big projects. Had they planned any renovations?

“San found them at Zeniba’s last week and I just got around to looking at them. Apparently they’re for this place, up here.” Hongjoong scrawled something at the edge of one sheet. “You know how I’ve been thinking about reorganizing these rooms for all of us.”

Ah. So that’s what he was doing.

“I just can’t figure out…”

“Here.” Seonghwa pried the pen out of Hongjoong’s grip and replaced it with a warm mug of tea. Hongjoong blinked at him. “You always forget to take care of yourself, I bet you haven’t sipped a single drink since you unrolled these plans, and the eyebags—” Seonghwa poked at them while he could, while Hongjoong was too stunned to fend him off. “—tell me you’ve had them unrolled since last night. So drink the tea while you take a break, then finish working once the caffeine’s hit.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth, probably to argue, but at Seonghwa’s glare, he sighed, blowing on his tea instead. “Fine.” He sat down.

“Good.” Seonghwa nodded, satisfied. He must be really tired, though, Seonghwa thought, with more than a little sadness. Hongjoong liked to argue, typically. “So what are your plans?”

“Well I was thinking…”

/////

Fifteen minutes later, Seonghwa had successfully pared down Hongjoong’s grandiose ideas into more manageable ones, and helped him set up a plan of action— obviously, he’d taken careful note of them in the logbook.

The next task actually found him rather than the other way around. As he bid his goodbyes to Hongjoong for the time being, ready to face the rest of the day’s responsibilities, the balcony door slid open (far too harshly, Seonghwa would need to have some  _ words _ ). San was there, silver scales glinting in the sunlight… and dripping water all over the hardwood floors and carpet.

Seonghwa bit back a groan. He knew San didn’t mean it, but… “San-ah,” he chided. “What did we say about this?”

San carefully set down the bag clutched in his claws, and then shifted into his human shape, curled into himself sheepishly. “Oops? Sorry hyung.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “Good to know, but that wasn’t what I asked.”

San pouted. “Shift on the balcony and wipe off before entering,” he mumbled.

“Right.” Seonghwa walked over and picked up the bag, carrying it to the center of the room and opening it up to pull out the items in it one by one. “Next time, okay? Don’t forget. Towel’s still out there, so why don’t you go make use of it?”

With an eager nod, San went off to do as he was told. “What’s all this?” Seonghwa asked Hongjoong, because there was only really one person who sent San on errands.

“Ingredients.” Hongjoong gestured at the three packets of herbs. “For tea; Zeniba said they’d help boost the bath’s effects.” He pointed to a thick, gnarled branch, with blackened bark. Where it was peeling, Seonghwa glimpsed silvery wood. “For the fire. I read that it burns slower but just as warm as normal coal, and the smoke smells sweet, figured we could give it a try.”

“And this?” Seonghwa held up a jar filled with sparkling gold liquid. 

“I don’t—”

“Ah!” San scrambled in, thankfully no longer soaking, and dressed in the fresh clothes Seonghwa had left for him. Hopefully, he’d done it behind the changing screen Seonghwa had also left out there, but San could be air-headed sometimes, especially when he was distracted, so… “That’s mine,” said San, taking it from Seonghwa. He held it close, almost protectively. “I made it.”

Hongjoong hummed, considering that. “With what?”

“Secret!”

“Is it for Wooyoung?” Seonghwa teased.

“...secret.”

“Not with a blush like that,” snickered Seonghwa.

“Fine, so it’s for Wooyoung.”

Seonghwa smiled and squeezed San’s hand reassuringly. “I’m sure he’ll like it.” He paused. “Whatever it is.”

“Thank you!”

“Did you need to do any more errands today?”

San shook his head. “No. I’m just going to go check on the grounds, as always. Things are going well, the workers fixed up a lot of the things that needed fixing. We’re blocking off most of the entrance, too, except for a small door for Wooyoung.”

That was good to hear. Seonghwa pulled out the logbook again, flipping to the page where he’d listed down San’s duties for the past few months. “The stalls and shops outside?”

“Done.”

“Garden?”

“In progress; it was done, but Mingi saw another of those cursed slugs, not sure where from, and he flipped out. So we have to redo a lot of it.” San huffed, rolling his eyes. “He’s so scared of bugs, which is funny considering he’s practically one himself with all his stupid long arms.”

“The bridge?”

“First thing we did. Duh.”

“And the entrance you’re still working on.”

“Yup.”

“Hongjoong, if you’re planning on sending him out again, now’s the time to say so. I have the rest of the bathhouse to check on, so—”

“I’m good,” Hongjoong said, swallowing down another mouthful of his tea.

Seonghwa nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you guys later.” He paused at the threshold to call out, “And San, you better clean up your own mess! I won’t be nice and do it for you this time!”

/////

Yunho was who Seonghwa decided to check on next. The poor kid had been cursed months ago, stuck as a teeny little crow, and while he was cute, it probably wasn’t easy existing like that; they’d all been doing their best in their spare time to find some sort of cure.

If he recalled correctly, Yunho should be trying a new thing today. Was it a potion? Something of that sort. Jongho had been brewing it, had said today it would be ready.

He found Yunho in the employee quarters, waiting patiently for Seonghwa because unlike majority of the others, he was kind enough to respect Seonghwa’s authority (most of the time). He smiled when he saw Seonghwa, as best he could, anyway, as a bird, and flapped his little wings furiously so he could float up into Seonghwa’s waiting palm.

Jongho wasn’t here, but Seonghwa assumed that was because he was attending to his duties. Next to where Yunho had been resting on Seonghwa’s bedroll, though, there’s a tiny vial of dull blue sludge, so Jongho had definitely been here, even if he wasn’t anymore. Seonghwa picked it up, grimacing. “Is this it?” he asked, doing his best to not sound as disgusted as he felt. It was a pretty small amount, at least.

Yunho chirped, but it was hesitant. Clearly, he didn’t like the thought much either.

“Good luck. Hopefully this works so you don’t have to take anymore, huh?”

Yunho tittered in response, and hopped over to Seonghwa’s shoulder to free up his hands. Seonghwa popped the cork and tensed up, fighting the urge to recoil at the smell. It wasn’t that it smelled  _ bad _ . It smelled like blueberries, actually, which might have been the cause of the color? Who knows.

But it just smelled  _ so strongly _ . Seonghwa felt like the quarters would smell like them for a year, even if they scrubbed it top to bottom three times over and cracked the windows all the way open. 

By his ear, Yunho made a little retching noise, one he quickly stifled, turning into a cough. 

Seonghwa giggled, a little nervously if he was honest, as he knelt to let Yunho down— there was no way Seonghwa was giving the potion to him while he was perched on Seonghwa’s shoulder. Not unless he wanted to dislocate it if it works. Yunho might have been the smallest of them all right now, but if he got his old form back… that would be anything but the case.

Yunho hopped back to the floor, and Seonghwa held out the bottle, tipping it gently so Yunho could drink. His face screwed up, clearly displeased, but like the champ he is, he dutifully swallowed it all down. 

For a moment, nothing changed, and Seonghwa pulled out the logbook, ready to note it as a dud—

Then, Yunho was suddenly  _ growing _ . Seonghwa stumbled back, watched with wide eyes as Yunho shot up to two, no three— six feet! Just like he used to be, except—

“You’re… still a bird,” Seonghwa muttered, blinking, as a long minute passed with no further changes.

“Yeah, I—” Yunho gasped, and Seonghwa nearly dropped the logbook, because… Yunho could speak again?

“Shit,” said Seonghwa, too shocked to bother filtering his words the way he usually did. He slapped a hand over his mouth immediately after, but it was too late to muffle it. He ended up lowering it again. “You. You can  _ speak _ .”

“I know,” breathed Yunho, almost reverently.

“You can actually say honest-to-all-the-gods words.”

“I  _ know _ .” Yunho was starting to bounce, his wings kind of wavering at his sides like he wanted to flap them. Seonghwa hoped he wouldn’t; not indoors. They didn’t know how powerful they would be at this scale. He could break something. He could make a mess.

Seonghwa did not like messes.

“So Jongho almost got it right this time. You’re still a bird, but like… you’re Yunho-sized at least.”

“And I can talk again!” Yunho cheers, like they hadn’t just said that twice already. “Holy crap, I am never gonna shut up again— I hated not being able to say things!”

Seonghwa started scribbling in the logbook the results— as well as a note to tell Jongho later, if he hadn’t already run into Yunho himself by dinnertime. “I almost forgot what your voice sounded like,” Seonghwa admitted, smiling slightly as Yunho began to sing, melodic and sweet, the way he used to do, sometimes.

“Same,” Yunho chirped.

“Now Jongho just has to figure out how to get you to look human again. At least getting around won’t be so tiring for you anymore.”

Yunho nodded furiously, clearly elated. “Can I help with anything today, hyung?” he asked eagerly. “I want to! Because I can now! I’m not tiny anymore!”

“I know, Yunho.” Seonghwa giggled, eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. Yunho was so cute. “But I don’t think you should yet. You have to get used to being this big again. Why don’t you head out to one of the gardens or something and do a few exercises? Try to fly and see if you still can, move around, pick things up… stuff like that.”

“But—”

“Yunho,” sighed Seonghwa, cutting him off before he could pout properly and make Seonghwa feel like a monster. “You could break something, or more awful, hurt yourself, if you do something you aren’t ready for. If there are no problems, I’ll give you some tasks tomorrow, okay?”

Yunho whined quietly, but eventually, nodded his head. “Yes, hyung.” A second later, he brightened up again. “Can I annoy the others first? I have a lot of snarky things I didn’t get to say as a bird.”

“You still  _ are _ a bird.”

“Not my voice!”

Seonghwa laughed and waved him out the door. “Okay, yeah. Have fun.”

/////

The sun was starting to set by the time Seonghwa had worked his way down to the entrance of the bathhouse— which meant he’d finished everything just in time.

It was still too early for any guests to arrive, really, but Seonghwa would, ideally, like to finish sooner next time. He’d have to adjust his schedule tomorrow; he could probably dawdle less around Hongjoong’s office, or be less nitpicky about the organization of the bath tags.

A figure faded into existence on the other edge of the bridge— a dark cloak, a white, eerie mask.

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa greeted, smiling slightly. Seonghwa liked Yeosang— he was a little chaotic (which was natural for a no-face), and sarcastic beyond belief (which was natural for Yeosang), but he was sweet and kind and honest, and hardworking, too, when he did show up to help.

He ate a  _ lot _ , but that didn’t bother Seonghwa as much as it bothered Hongjoong, and only then, it was only because it massively messed up their budgeting. Since Wooyoung had let him in all those months ago, he’d slowly wriggled his way into a spot in their family, and no one would have it any other way.

“Hyung!” greeted Yeosang, reaching up with his ghostly hands to slide the mask from his face, revealing his bright eyes, his shy smile. (Wooyoung had asked him, once, why he was called a no-face if he had one. Yeosang had only said, amicably, that most didn’t— his was a gift he’d earned. No one had had the courage to ask for clarification.) “Is it dinner time yet?”

Seonghwa made a face, laughing breathlessly.  _ Of course _ that was the first thing on his mind. “What does it look like?” he asked, gesturing pointedly at the other side of the bridge, at the distinctly empty restaurant stalls. Those would be filling up, soon, with spirit-chefs and piles of lavish dishes and magical passersby drawn by the rich scents and sounds. Seonghwa should probably have them checked, soon, make sure things were still up to par. 

“Point taken,” said Yeosang. “But soon, right?”

With a roll of his eyes, Seonghwa sighed, “ _ Yes _ , Yeosang. Soon. Come on inside already— do you want to come with me to hand off the logbook to Hongjoong?”

“Sure.”

\\\\\\\\\

Hongjoong didn’t like the logbook very much.

Oh, he agreed it was  _ necessary _ . He knew things at the bathhouse were far from simple, and without the careful cataloging he and Seonghwa did, there would most likely be twice as many disasters to deal with.

The place was already a madhouse, just by virtue of its clientele and— hell— even its existence. They really needed to make the running of it as smooth as possible, and that only happened if they were meticulous about everything.

That didn’t mean Hongjoong had to like it, though.

Hongjoong was all over the place all the fucking time— seriously. He was frequently forgetting things he set down, or thinking so fast his body couldn’t catch up. It meant he excelled at responding on the fly to the bathhouse’s needs and creating things that stood out, that were uniquely innovative…

But failed terribly at monitoring it all.

That kind of thing was more up Seonghwa’s alley, really, but so was running the more technical and cleanliness aspects of the bathhouse, and he needed a certain amount of time to put his full focus into his duties to make sure they all got done and done right. (In case anyone was wondering, Hongjoong handled the business and the magic; he wasn’t useless. He wasn’t!)

And since Hongjoong was usually wandering the bathhouse at night anyway, making sure things were flowing smoothly, they decided that was a good time for Hongjoong to take the logbook, freeing up Seonghwa to do his own thing, whatever it was.

Hongjoong would have to find him later to find out what that was today.

In the meantime, he had places to be, starting with the basement.

\\\\\\\\\

All things considered, Mingi’s basement was much nicer than it could have been. Since Mingi enchanted all the soot to make them sprites, the place wasn’t half as dusty as it would normally get. He’d also hung a bunch of string lights (a gift from Wooyoung) across the walls. All the herbs and potions for the bathwater were neatly filed away, each drawer labeled in a spindly hand on peeling stickers.

Those were pretty old, actually. Probably needed replacing. Hongjoong jotted that down real quick in the logbook before he forgot.

Gods, it was hot as hell down here.

“How’s the fire?” Hongjoong asked, making sure to be a little noisy as he approached so Mingi would know he was there.

A large, excitable, very easily startled spider-thing was already dangerous enough on its own, but combine that with a roaring fire strong enough to heat all the water in a bathhouse as big as theirs, and…

Hongjoong shuddered just thinking about it. Yeah, they did  _ not  _ want a repeat of new year’s. 

“Hyung!” Mingi twisted his head to look at Hongjoong, smiling. “Hi!” His hands (he seriously had way too many, how did he keep track of them all?) didn’t stop moving, though, which was good. It kept the bath running smoothly. Mingi turned back to the fire, snapping one set of fingers until some sprites filed out from their hiding spots and went to replenish the firewood. “It was just getting low, but…” he shrugged, waving a hand pointedly at the little line of puffballs. “Fixed it.”

“Good.” Hongjoong paused, pointedly raising an eyebrow. “San told me you messed up some of the garden work.”

Mingi groaned. “I didn’t mean to! That slug was a monster last time— you saw what it did to San!”

“Yeah, but even  _ San _ didn’t freak out that badly, and he was the one who—”

“I know! I said sorry! I tried to help them fix it!”

Hongjoong sighed and jumped up— because Mingi was not only stupidly tall on his own, but also had a special, way-too-fucking-high seat for his little control center— to ruffle Mingi’s hair. “It’s fine. Just wanted to tell you to be more careful, next time.”

“Yes, hyung,” came the sheepish response.

What else did Hongjoong need to say? “Did you need any more herbs? Anything running low?”

Mingi shook his head, and pulled a handful of levers. The pipes groaned and creaked— he was pulling from one of the older lines, evidently— and it was too loud for Mingi to answer and be heard, so he didn’t. When the noise had passed, he said, “No. I’m good. I think the labels need—”

“Replacing?” Hongjoong finished for him. “I know. Noticed when I got here. We should probably fix those loud pipes too. Are there a lot of lines that get that noisy?”

“A few.” Mingi shrugged. “I don’t mind them all that much.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want to wait ‘til they break,” Hongjoong pointed out. “We’ll just get them checked out some time. Label them or something so we know which ones to look at.”

Mingi hummed an acknowledgement as a tag came tumbling down. Followed by another. And another. Mingi turned away, already rifling through the proper drawers, and Hongjoong knew that he wouldn’t be getting much else from him tonight— business was finally picking up for the evening and there would be no space for Mingi to breathe if he had to handle conversation too.

Hongjoong slipped out the door as silently as he could.

\\\\\\\\\

It was suppertime for all the ‘supervisors’ except Mingi, who had no choice, really, but to have his at the end of the night or way before it began— and he always chose the latter.

Yeosang was already at the table when Hongjoong arrived, because of course he was, and beside him was Seonghwa. Wooyoung and San were on Yeosang’s other side, but they’d left a gap between them. Hongjoong couldn’t fathom why until he watched San reel back, gesturing emphatically about something, movements big enough he nearly went right through Yeosang’s semi-corporeal form. (And that was something Yeosang had said he hated with a passion.)

Ah. That was why.

“—don’t understand— oh, hyung.”

Hongjoong turned to find Jongho and… was that…? “Yunho?”

“And me,” said Jongho, flatly. He waved a hand. “Hello?”

“Hi Jongho,” Hongjoong replied, rolling his eyes, though his mouth curved in a smile, fond. “And that’s Yunho, right?”

“Did Seonghwa-hyung not tell you?” And, yeah, that voice… the giant-ass crow  _ was _ Yunho. Definitely. 

Hongjoong thought about that for a moment. He’d been preoccupied when Seonghwa had come to deliver the logbook, so it was highly possible... “Don’t know,” he said, eventually. He couldn’t help the way he beamed next. “It’s great to have you… mostly back.”

Jongho grimaced, and together, the three of them wandered over to their seats at the table. Hongjoong noted that Seonghwa and Yeosang had somehow switched places since Hongjoong first arrived, leaving Yeosang with an empty spot beside him. Coincidentally, it was where Jongho typically sat.

Interesting.

“It should have worked,” Jongho mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. The bags beneath them were heavy, and Hongjoong frowned. “But I got something wrong, so it was incomplete.” He waved a hand at Yunho to indicate him. “I’ll keep working.”

“You can rest, Jjong,” Yunho twittered, tapping at Jongho’s shoulder with a dark wing. “This is plenty. I don’t mind being like this so much. Things are easier, and I can talk again, at least.”

“But—”

“Jjong-ah,” piped up Yeosang. He had some chicken held in his chopsticks. “Eat something. You forgot again, didn’t you?”

“I— how’d you know?”

Hongjoong grimaced, but he said nothing, reaching instead for his own food. Yeosang would have that lecture covered, he was pretty sure.

Speaking of Yeosang, the no-face clicked his tongue. “You do it so often, especially when you’re busy with a potion.” He shoved his chopsticks at Jongho, none-too-gently. “Eat.”

“I can feed myself!” As if to prove it, Jongho tried to snatch the chopsticks away, but Yeosang swatted at him. Normally, Jongho had reflexes quick enough he could have dodged easily, but this time… This time, Yeosang’s attack connected with a soft  _ whap _ , and judging by Jongho’s slow blink of surprise, it hadn’t been on purpose.

Yeosang arched an eyebrow. “You were saying?” He poked his chopsticks at Jongho’s lips again, smearing sauce all over them, though that didn’t deter Yeosang at all. “Ah,” he cooed, quiet. “Jongho. Ah.  _ Ah _ .” For each word, Yeosang pushed the food at him, his free hand cupped under Jongho’s chin to catch anything that might fall. As if he were feeding a baby.

He kinda was the baby, though. The youngest of their whole group. So Hongjoong didn’t really blame Yeosang.

“Fine,” Jongho finally gave in, opening his mouth to let Yeosang feed him.

Hongjoong breathed a sigh of relief. He was lucky they all looked out for each other.

\\\\\\\\\

Once Hongjoong had eaten his share of dinner, he’d immediately gone down to check on business. He’d make a couple of rounds, he decided— answer questions, make sure everything was progressing smoothly. After that, maybe he’d retreat to his quarters and balance the books. Or maybe he’d find Seonghwa and see how he was doing… 

And maybe get himself taken care of for a little bit. Gods knew he was tired.

But that would have to wait.

For now, the baths were full and warm and  _ bustling _ , and Hongjoong had to make sure it stayed that way.

He spent a few hours sorting out minor mix-ups and showing some of their newer hands the tips and tricks he’d built up. He even, with a quick spell, helped clean out a mess left by a polluted nature spirit (thankfully, this one had the sense to visit early, and didn’t make too large a problem).

Next, he checked on where Wooyoung was handling the tags, helping to hand them off to their various employees— a job he’d recently earned, as their old manager had needed assistance anyway, with the steady rise of business they’d been getting. Two hands simply weren’t enough to match the demand, and especially since the renovation they’d done the last few months…

Wooyoung was there, dutiful despite his regular pretense otherwise. His smile was sweet and bright, and it showed no signs of flagging, though it was getting fairly late in the night.

“Which one?” Wooyoung was asking, leaning so far out of his seat Hongjoong couldn’t help but brace, slightly, for him to fall out of it at any moment. The attendant Wooyoung was speaking with murmured something. “Ah, I see,” Wooyoung twisted, scanned the neatly stacked wooden tags until he’d found the right one, and held it out. “Here!”

The attendant, a young girl, this one, one of the new ones— flushed prettily as she thanked him, and then scurried off, prize in hand. Hongjoong was grateful that at the very least, her awe for Wooyoung did not strike her dumb. Some of the others had been rather stressful to deal with until they’d grown immune; more than a few times, they’d left without the tag, and Wooyoung had had to either chase them down or scream at them until they returned. Others had stalled, had done nothing but gape until Wooyoung had prodded them to take their tag and go.

“Hyung!” shrieked Wooyoung when he spotted Hongjoong where he stood, loud even over the din of the bathhouse in full swing; the kid had one hell of a pair of lungs in him, Hongjoong had to give him that. Wooyoung waved wildly, and the old manager frog jerked out of the way, nearly losing his footing. Wooyoung giggled in shock, apologizing profusely, as Hongjoong came over with a roll of his eyes.

“Careful. We need him,” Hongjoong warned, fighting not to flash a grin in return for the bashful smile Wooyoung gave him. “I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Wooyoung. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good.” Hongjoong nodded at the other manager to return to his work. “Do we have enough tags? Or have you had to improvise again?”

Wooyoung frowned, gaze flicking off to some corner, which Hongjoong knew meant he was carefully remembering. “Not tonight, but maybe later. We might need to get Mingi some kind of helper, too. Or another boiler room. Or both.” He waved a hand at the small stacks of tags left in the shelves. “We used to get more back than this. Mingi’s not falling behind so badly it’s a problem, but… it’s kinda just barely scraping by.”

“It’s true,” said the manager, as he handed off another three tags, then reached around Wooyoung to snag another. “If business keeps going as it is, Mingi will be swamped, and by extension so will we.”

Hongjoong hummed, reaching for the pen behind his ear and patting at his pockets for…

“Shit,” he hissed. “ _ Shit _ , the logbook, where did I—”

“Looking for this?”

Hongjoong whirled around and came face to face with San, smiling bemusedly. He held out the leather journal that was their logbook. “Passed by it on my way through the baths,” he said, as Hongjoong breathed a grateful sigh and took it, immediately flipping it to the next empty page and scrawling down what Wooyoung had said.

He grimaced at it. He’d rushed that too much. It would need some decoding later, probably, before he returned the logbook to Seonghwa.

“San!” Wooyoung cheered. Before he could say more, another few attendants came, completed tags in hand, and he was temporarily arrested with accepting them back and filing them neatly away.

That gave Hongjoong some time to question San before Wooyoung whisked his attention away. “What are you doing here? Not just looking for me, I imagine.” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have work to attend to?”

“I finished it all early!” San protested. “So no. I’m done with work.”

“You do know part of that work is like. Supervision. That doesn’t just end when—”

“I know! I know.” San pouted, and Hongjoong drew himself a little straighter, fighting the urge to give into San’s stupidly cute puppy eyes. Not today, thanks. “I set up a few scrying mirrors. Nowhere they’ll be jostled or broken, promise. But Wooyoung wanted to go see this one field and the flowers only bloom when we have work, so…” He clapped his hands together and ducked his head in mimicry of prayer. “Please?”

Hongjoong lasted about two seconds before he crumbled. Fuck San, honestly, he knew exactly how to play every single one of his cards. “Fine.  _ Fine _ ,” he gave in, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. “As long as you’re close enough that if I need you, you won’t take centuries to arrive. IF we have an emergency—”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course hyung. Thank you!”

Wooyoung hopped down from his perch, then, grinning at San. “He said okay?”

San nodded eagerly, linking his arm through Wooyoung’s, and with a sweet wave and a blown kiss, Wooyoung let himself be led outside.

Hongjoong sighed. “Those two…”

“They’re cute,” said the manager, idly. He accepted a few more returned tags and sorted them out. “I think they’ve been planning this for a while. Wooyoung even gave Yue over here some basic training.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows rose, and there, indeed, was Yue, one of the staff members that had been here almost as long as Wooyoung himself. She smiled. “I still need help, sometimes, because I don’t memorize all the tags, but I know most of them!”

“Ah, I see,” Hongjoong murmured. Huh. Kudos to San and Wooyoung, he supposed, for thinking ahead. Scrying mirrors weren’t exactly easy to prepare either, especially for San, and Hongjoong couldn’t imagine they’d had many just lying around. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I don’t mind!”

Hongjoong smiled at her, and then went on to his last stop of the night.

Seonghwa.

\\\\\\\\\

As the bathhouse began to slow down, the front doors shuttering themselves so the staff could clean for the night (before the sun rose and took their strength 

Seonghwa wasn’t in the employee quarters, which was rare, but not concerningly unusual.

Hongjoong figured he’d been held up somewhere, so he settled down to wait instead, lying across the single bedroll left out— Seonghwa’s. Normally, Seonghwa insisted on cleaning them all up, but the staff, Hongjoong knew, had all conspired to make sure Seonghwa’s was always out and ready for him to collapse onto any time; they all knew he could sometimes overwork himself, and they wanted to make things easy for him. Of course, they made sure it was out of the way and neat, so he wouldn’t complain, but it never got tucked away into the cabinets like all the others.

Without meaning to, Hongjoong must have dozed off, because he found himself nudged awake by Seonghwa’s foot poking at his side.

“Yah,” said Seonghwa, when he realized Hongjoong was (regretfully) awake. “I know you can fall asleep anywhere, any time, because that’s your special talent, but don’t you think doing it in my only bed when you have those big fancy rooms upstairs is a little much?”

“I told—” Hongjoong yawned, cutting himself off. “I told you that you could always come stay with me. You’re warm. Good for cuddling.”

Seonghwa snorted. “You’re still half-asleep, I see.”

“‘M not.” (He was.)

Another, slightly more forceful kick, to his knee this time. “Up!”

“Okay, okay.” With a groan, Hongjoong obliged, pushing himself up and rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“Better.”

Hongjoong scooted sideways before Seonghwa could make him. Just like Hongjoong knew he would, Seonghwa plopped down into the newly empty spot on the bed. Hongjoong instantly leaned against his shoulder, and though he clicked his tongue, Seonghwa was more than happy to stroke his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair and scratch gently at the nape of his neck the way he liked.

It took everything in Hongjoong’s body not to make some kind of incriminating sound. “What were you doing?” he mumbled, hopefully loud enough to be audible.

“I was at the pier. I haven’t checked on it in a while, and wanted to be sure it was still passable,” came the answer, so it must have been. “The tracks were in good condition too.”

Hongjoong shifted to be a little more comfortable. “You know you don’t need an excuse to take a break and go for a walk, right? You’ve always done more than your fair share of the labor here.”

“So have you,” pointed out Seonghwa, tweaking gently at the skin of Hongjoong’s neck, as if in reprimand. Maybe. That was hypocritical of him, but since he was being a pretty decent pillow for Hongjoong right now… Hongjoong would let it slide. “And I know. It wasn’t an excuse. I had it scheduled for myself, but I didn’t get to do it earlier today because it was opening time when I got through the bathhouse, and there were more pressing things to handle.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A long moment passed. Outside, the wind whistled and knocked gently at the balcony doors. They were too high up, really, to hear the water where it lapped at the cliff sides, but Hongjoong could picture it clearly: the darkness turning shallows into depths, the lights from their bathhouse windows reflected across them and rippling, almost beckoning, like glowing will-o-wisps.

“Did you finish logging everything?”

“Mm.” Hongjoong fumbled the logbook out of his pocket and held it out, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, but though it was chiding and exasperated, Hongjoong could hear the endearment in it. And when Seonghwa snatched the logbook from Hongjoong’s hands, his touch was gentle and lingering.

“You write so messily,” commented Seonghwa.

“But can you read it?”

“Yes.”

“Then deal with it.”

Seonghwa must have rolled his eyes, but Hongjoong didn’t bother to look— not even when Seonghwa jerked his shoulder lightly, just enough to get Hongjoong’s attention. “Do you want to move upstairs?” 

“No.”

A sigh. “Okay. Let’s lie down properly then.”

Hongjoong let himself be shuffled around and the cover to be tugged out from under him, and when Seonghwa laid next to him, he was more than happy to curl up close, like a particularly contented cat. “G’night,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

\\\\\\\\\

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had a system for running the bathhouse.

They had a logbook, where they kept careful track of all their changes and renovations and the progress they’d all made.

They had Zeniba, retired though she was, to give them advice and resources when she could afford it.

They had six wonderful friends who did what they could to help, who brightened up the bathhouse with their laughter and their shenanigans, and even with the messes they made.

And most of all?

They had each other.

And that was the best thing of all.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twt @theauthorish


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